Far to the southeast lie the Edgeworld mountains. The furthest range east, south of the gap claimed by the Karagan-Shale dwarven clan is the Gormthal Peaks. This harsh landscape of stone and lava has long been a home to both fire and storm giants alike. For centuries, the giant clans held a loose alliance against the stalwart dwarves that clung to old holds at the base of the mountain range.

However, such a tepid alliance was sundered when the widowed king of the fire giants stole away the storm giant king’s eldest daughter. Such a brazen act, without consul from the father for a blessing (and more importantly, a sizable dowry) was deemed an irreverent insult to the storm giant clans. A great war was taken up that raged on for years. Decades later it still goes on, but no longer are great battles fought. Instead small skirmishes continually break out among their borders, primarily from young giants seeking to make a name fighting their enemy kin.

Such a war among these great beings has taken a severe toll on the landscape. Gormthal Peaks was always dappled with volcanic rock. However now the mountain stone is gouged with deep burning slashes and lava exploding into surrounding soot-choked air. As an answer to the continual gouts of flame and lava, ever rolling dark clouds billow above, arcing lightning and expelling frequent bouts of acrid rain.

What forced the fire giant king to do such a reckless act? None can state with any authority. Some claim that the storm giant princess was claimed without her consent and is still a prisoner within his fiery halls.

Other more bardic tales weave one of forbidden love. The princess knew that her father would never bless their marriage and no dowry would ever satisfy her father’s greed, so she herself spirited away to her lover. So enraged was the storm giant king, that he struck out at the fire giants, claiming he was wronged. Better to fight a war than admit the wounding of his pride, that his very daughter sought true love over family honor.

With war brings opportunities for some. Those willing to make the long trek and face the harsh wilds teeming with vile monsters may find some employ among the giants. Each side is always in dire need of reports of troop movements and activities among the respective war councils. Such efforts of espionage is best done with smaller folk and outsiders. While wary employers, known for wicked deceitfulness, some mercenaries with more neutral philosophies have found work aligning themselves with one giant faction.

Such open employment is looked down on very harshly from the neighboring dwarven clans. However the dwarves have been known to also recruit outsiders to play the part of mercenaries for the giants. Adopting this facade some have done greater acts of subterfuge within the giant holds, most secretly pass information to the Karagan-Shale clan on the activities of their giant enemies. This work is a dangerous game, not only risking the perilous wildlife within the mountains, but also the wrath of the giants if such a betrayal is discovered.

The Pomdarians were an ancient race of lizard folk that created a great empire of arcane marvels. Thousands of years since their demise many of their mysterious monuments still litter the southern jungles. Some legends say that they fell into warring factions, wielding powerful magics that resulted in the destruction of their race.

Other legends speak of a great religious movement which rebelled against their affinity of the arcane, choosing instead to worship primal gods. This divergence in philosophy was so pronounced it actually split the lineage of the Pomdarians into two races, the primal lizardmen and the magic-touched dragonborn (although few historians would be foolish enough to bring up such a topic in earshot of either race).

Still others claim that the great network of portals created by the Pomdarians lead to their downfall. Use of these portals weakened the normal boundaries of the physical world and that of the great beyond. Horrible aberrations slipped into the known world and brought down their great civilization, likely explaining the origins of many monstrous creatures in the world today.

No one can state the real reason for the fall of the Pomdarian empire. What cannot be refuted is that this grand civilization reached an epoch, and in the matter of a few years slid into obscurity, utterly wiped from world existence. One part that remains of their enigmatic past is the sparse number of standing portal gates scattered among the deep jungles.

Many times there have been attempts to map and categorize the portal doors by the League of Imperial Arcanists. Still to this day their efforts have been in vain. One simply knows that you enter the gateway, and emerge from another random portal gate. Most of the gates have been discovered and are within the boundaries of many towns or cities, however the discovery of another portal ruin is not unknown. What compounds the complexity of categorizing these portals is the inexplicable length of time one can enter another gateway. Once a person enters, they cannot reenter a portal gate for up to a week. And when they can do so, it inevitably will lead them to another location.

A few steely merchants are willing to make use of these portals. The gamble is that such merchants will not know where they land and what are the desires of their potential customers. Hence, usually they ply staple goods that will sell in just about any city. What makes this journey even of more risk is that some gates lead to ruins deep within the wilderness. Even darker tales circulate of merchants that enter the portals never to be seen again. Either they arrive at some other gate buried in some deep cavernous ruins, surrounded by foul monsters, or they slip out of this world entirely.

Such rumors are fodder for many companies of adventurers. Stout hearted heroes willing to step into the shimmering ruin gateways in hopes of landing at some undiscovered location. If one found lost ruins of the Pomdarians at some previously unknown destination, clearly there could be riches, or at least find the League of Imperial Arcanists willing to pay handsomely for any maps and proof of such ruins existing.

Deep within the western forests was the famed city of Gymynda. Carved from the wilderness from pioneering humans, it established itself as a trading hub for the many tribes of the forest elves. A wary peace was struck long ago from the great elven chiefdom of Aldarianna Moonlight. Her wisdom and patience with the human settlement fostered a long relationship of mutual benefit and trade. At times relationships were strained, especially when some industrious humans of Gymynda struck out too deep within the territories claimed by elves, but her steadfast resolve for peace usually silenced any voices of violent reprisals.

Many claim it was her passing which sealed the fate of Gymynda. For many generations of cityfolk, the elven tribes were seen as good neighbors, even allies in times of need. However the Grand Chief Aldarianna Moonlight’s health began to wane from a mysterious illness. Despite the efforts of elven shaman and learned human healers of Gymynda, she slid further and further into a drifting malaise, as if her very life was being siphoned away. Within years she eventually succumbed and fell into a deep sleep and in days she had slipped from her mortal husk.

The death of their great leader was a time of long mourning within the elven tribes. The lead council of Gymynda also decreed a month of mourning among its citizens, but while the Grand Chief was respected, many of the folk within Gymynda did not hold the same reverence for her as those of her elven followers. Within a week mourning dress among the city dwellers began to lift and in short time life went back to normal. After all, many felt there was still coin to be made with trade, trapping, and farming, and some even felt it an ideal time to claim untapped ranges of forest for logging.

No one knows what caused the great growth. Some would claim it was a wicked curse brought about by elven shaman, to inflict their wrath on the humans that failed to show proper respect during the passing of their leader. Others say it was great magics wielded by the elven tribes to stifle the further expansion of Gymynda. Some state these elves knew with Grand Chief Moonlight now gone, the city would begin rampant expansion within their borders.

However a far more sinister tale is sometimes spoken. One of dark magics brought on by avarice from some within Gymynda, quite possibly a dark pact with demons to inflict a curse on Moonlight that would sap her very life force. A horrible spell with terrifying unseen repercussions.

For over a decade Gymynda prospered. The city grew and industry thrived. Great logging guilds reached deep within the thick woods. As the city developed, so did their men-at-arms and militia. The elven chiefdom broke apart as individual tribes had squabbled among themselves. Some sought peace, while many were willing to aid Gymynda in expanding into the lands of rival tribes if it meant keeping their holdings untouched. The wealth and affluence of the trading merchants and craftsmen guilds swelled within Gymynda. Gone were the days of hearty pioneers as opulent ways were adopted among the more wealthier citizens.

Then, on the sixth full moon of a new year, the cursed growth sprung up within Gymynda. Its citizens woke in horror to find buildings overgrown in thick vines. Young trees and grasses burst forth among cobbled stone streets. More terrifying was that some were found entombed in thick vines, suffocated and serving as a morbid bed of blood red flowers which covered their corpses. Efforts to hack away at the vines and trees were a herculean task. A man would go through several steel axe heads and only manage to make a paltry clearing. On the next morn they would find their efforts worthless, as new verdant growth would replace any cleared areas.

However all of these events paled to what soon followed. The denizens of Gymynda soon found themselves to be growing like the land around them. Patches of skin became covered in thick moss. Blood red flowers emerged from ears, eyes, and mouths. Bodies stiffened as their very limbs began to sprout tendrils of thick roots and vines.

Panicked people fled from Gymynda. Those that sought refuge with the elves were turned away or slain, the elves burning the bodies that remained with ritualized magics. The forest elves knew that dark primal magic was at play. Those that were afflicted could spread the sickness to others and they had to be held at bay through any means. Word of this spread to neighboring kingdoms, and when similar afflictions were seen among villagers that interacted with the stricken people of Gymynda, these lords also decreed to slay any that appeared from the forest.

A century later, some say the ruins of Gymynda can still be made out among the clinging wild of vines and trees. Some have claimed to have explored such ruins, but few can be believed. As to this day a shambling figure can occasionally be seen shuffling out of the forest edge towards neighboring villages, horrid creatures bent on engulfing large animals and man alike in tendrils of writhing vines.

Some village leaders adopt a proactive stance, encouraging adventurers to make expeditions within the deep forests and clear out any cursed beings that they may find. Some are even willing to pay coin for those that do. All the while, one can always manage to hear tales spoken after several pints in these village taverns. Tales of how sudden was the overgrowth that choked the life out Gymynda and its wealth would likely still be there, hidden under a carpet of moss and vines. All of it just waiting to be plucked up by those brave enough to enter within the cursed ruins.

Few sorcerers of legend carry a name that both inspires awe and incites dread than that of Ulaam of the One Eye. The human spell practitioner is claimed to have hailed from the icy north, an outcast of the nomad tribes. Not much is known of his past. Some claim that he was a medicine man of prominence with his people, but vied for power and attempted to wrest it from the warrior chieftains of his tribe. Others state that his power and insight into the magics of the world set him at odds with the simple nomad warriors that revered the power of muscle and steel. Fewer still state that his lust for power caused him to look to gods of other beings. That it was his dabbling in the powers of Gruumsh which resulted in the loss of his eye, and his resulting banishment from his lands.

Rumors of his calling towards the darker arcane arts had always haunted Ulaam of the One Eye. His manner was always recorded as detached, distant, and sought little in the company of others. Even the more benevolent acts he had committed ridding strange beasts and vile monsters from the civilized lands were marred with whispers of him obtaining odd trophies from the slain creatures. His most revered act of defeating the evil wizard, Al’Khameed, still to this day have some claiming it was primarily jealousy and a desire of obtaining similar dark powers that drove Ulaam to battle him.

In his last years, Ulaam of the One Eye became more reclusive. He constructed a simple tower and created a force of golems to protect him and act as servants. He refused all that sought his counsel, and took to having his powerful golems ever patrol the fields that surrounded the tower to ward off visitors.

Some claim that these last years were when the sorcerer delved deeper into the mysteries of the black magics. Fewer even speak that powerful artifacts of the god, Vecna, were in his possession, that his final efforts were to decipher the arcane powers within these vile instruments of the evil god in an attempt to prolong his life. Such claims are supported by the rumors of cemeteries from neighboring villages being raided by golems of flesh and earth.

None really knew the direction of his arcane research, save that one black night under the new moon a tremendous explosion was heard. The lone tower where the reclusive sorcerer resided burst into a bright green configuration. Flaming chunks of stone and mortar were seen hurtling through the night sky in high, trailing arcs of embers and smoke.

The next day, a handful of brave souls had travelled to the remote tower to see what had happened. In the distance, they could see the sundered tower. The top shorn off and one side completely missing, with the remaining stonework a gutted, blackened, scaffold of the structure. Some wanted to inspect further, however the lumbering creatures Ulaam had created to secure his isolation were still seen patrolling the grounds, seemingly oblivious to what had become of their master.

The tower to this day draws adventurers. Many rival wizards have financed large companies of sellswords to breach the defenses of automatons and seek what became of Ulaam of the One Eye. Despite efforts to destroy the arcane constructs, their forms seemingly reassemble the following day, and begin their tireless duty walking around the tower.

The few that have managed to investigate the tower found nothing within the destroyed remains. Although some claim that beneath the tower’s foundations, some secret chambers are still intact. Within might be some powerful artifacts acting as a source of magical energy that seems to continually restore the golem guards. To obtain such a power, and study its secrets, is something that many spellcasters covet deeply.

But there are still greater mysteries of the tower. What happened that night long ago? What great calamity befell Ulaam? And what happened to the remains of the great sorcerer? Questions to this day remain unanswered, and what some scholars claim are key to unlocking the great mystery of the magics that remain in play around the tower ruins.

This religious order is a prominent player in the political structure of Etholita, and their various temples scatter the densely wooded region. The order comprises of followers of Sehanine and is known for their generosity. The Etholician monks open many of their grounds to the weary and needy, offering protection against the elements and their expertise in the medicinal arts if needed.

Their openness and willingness to offer aid has raised ire with some the ruling nobility of Etholita. The country has always had a strained relationship with its neighbors, especially the Kormerrian barbarian tribes that lead frequent raids. The order has offered aid to the wounded of both warring sides if asked, and many times have been requested by foreign parties to act as arbitrators in political disputes with Etholita. The monks are known for their fairness and impartiality, and at times have even ruled against the very state that houses their monasteries in legal disputes.

The monks themselves avoid bloodshed whenever possible. However, they do train with simple weapons favoring the club and staff. Their martial prowess in unarmed combat is renowned, and much of a monk’s daily routine is designed to focus their minds and bodies into formidable weapons.

The constant accompaniment of dogs is another characteristic of their order. The common presence of large mastiffs can be observed as these dogs appear to have free reign within the monastery grounds. These are not spoiled beasts however, despite the occasional frolicking of young pups among the common halls. The dogs are well disciplined and follow their master’s command with resolute obedience. It is rumored that brigands or humanoids foolhardy enough to raid the order have not only met the martial might of the monks but also the savage fury of their beast companions.

From their deeds to their effective command of the martial arts, the monks have established themselves as a major player in the politics of Etholita. This brings some worry with the land’s nobles, while a few would even admit to desiring the order be abolished completely (such talk however is a topic of secret council).

It is such tension with the order that has likely lead to some of the more astounding rumors regarding the monks. Some claim that the order is cursed. Their oldest members are afflicted with a horrible disease that transforms them into beasts. The reverence of the moon is a secret admission of their affinity with lycanthropy.

It is immensely uncommon to come across werebeasts in Etholita, however it does not keep the circulation of such rumors falling among commoners. Some will swear the many dogs that are devout companions to the order are actually monks themselves which have succumbed to the long standing curse. The monks in their benevolence open their hearts and temples to these animals in hopes to bring them peace.

The Etholician monks respond to these rumors with much mirth and deny any truth to such astounding tales. Yet some nobles would clearly find such evidence immensely valuable to strengthening their position in Etholita. The order, while committing many charitable acts, would find their supporters wary of the practice of such magics, and likely erode the standing of their order from the very commoners they aid.